Head Bowed Poem by GRANT FRASER

When they said
there was no room
to put the dead,

my heart shrank
into my slippers,

'we'll maybe lay
them out in the park? ',

then my thoughts
spun
like pepper and salt,

so steadied myself
against table,

is this a breakdown?

I forced the tablet
over my throat,

pushed out my bike
and went to work,

when I go there,
the Radio was on,

and everything looked
fairly normal,

I got through all the
routines,

between masks
and sanitizer gels,

held the world
firm between my legs,

Mother, I wished I could
believe you,
the birds are out,
the Sun is now shining!

Please give all
our offspring,
a chance to undo
what we have done,

that's all, I beg you...